Set The Fire To The Third Bar
by feelinwaytoodamngood
Summary: "I'm miles from where you are. I lay down on the cold ground. I pray that something picks me up and sets me down in your warm arms."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**WARNING: This is a very angst-filled story! I hope you'll read it anyway! The epidemic hasn't happened and Elizabeth is new in town. She was never raped. Other than the epidemic, the Scrubs is accurate. It should be a nice break from the bullshit storylines that have been thrust upon Lucky and Elizabeth lately.**

_July 2, 2007_

Robin Scorpio paced the length of the living room of her two-story flat, remembering back to when she had compared her boyfriend, Patrick Drake, to her father a year and a half ago. She had accused him of digging a path in the carpet. He had paced and she had teased; it was ironic that, now, she was the one pacing and he would be the one making accusations.

The hem of her cucumber skirt brushed against the colorless couch. On each side of it, there were two loveseats. It had been a joint decision to buy the pieces of furniture and they had shared the apartment for four months now. The maroon-and-forest-green stitched rug had been Robin's idea, her justification being that it brightened up the room and set a mood for the apartment. She had even convinced Patrick to paint the kitchen butter-yellow when she was away in Paris for a meeting with an old friend, Evan.

Her friend had been interested in her research and, without any cajoling on her part, save her straight-to-the-point exterior and the stubborn set of her chin, he had agreed to fund all of her research for as long as necessary. The idea still threw her, that he trusted her so much with something like that when, while he had been studying brain abnormalities his entire adult life-he was twenty years older than she-Robin had just began to tackle over the last eight years of her medical career. She loved to learn and, while she had refused to step down, she would, begrudgingly, admit when she was wrong if there were facts to back it up. Robin hadn't discussed this with Patrick, but it wasn't what had her so frazzled. She had a feeling that, while he might back her up when it came to the funding of her research, there was no guarantee that what she had found out today would settle well with him. For all she knew, he would walk right back out the door.

She glanced over at the clock hanging in front of the archway leading to the aforementioned yellow kitchen. He should have been here by now! She had called him thirty minutes ago. Didn't he understand the importance of this conversation? She hadn't exactly been hysterical when she had talked to him, but hadn't he been the one to call her transparent? Shouldn't he have been able to hear the difference in her tone or at least recognize the desperation that clung to her words? Where was he?

Dragging a hand through her mess of tapioca curls, she contemplated how she would go about telling him. She had tried everything she could think of to keep him comfortable in their relationship, because he was still so new to it. They had only become official after Patrick cut his hand in the OR while operating on an end-stage AIDS patient. His exposure had more than scared him; it had changed his entire outlook on life. The fact that Robin not only had HIV-practically undetectable as it was-but also that she didn't go running in the other direction apparently made her trustworthy. A few months ago, he had told her that he loved her and she, determined to fight her feelings, finally gave in and reciprocated. It was easy to throw it all out there when you thought you might have contracted some dangerous, life-threatening disease like HIV or AIDS. Well, his results had come in, his six-month test, and he was negative. He had insisted on them checking again, so they had. Still negative. She had expressed her fears to him before he received the tests in the mail. Pouring her heart out to him, teary-eyed and all, she had explained that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, certain that he would return to his old ways and just consider her "some girl" he had had this momentary lapse of judgment with. Oh God, she couldn't tell him this!

Breathe in and out. Wasn't that what the experts said? She, in all her years as a doctor, had never found this to be all that relaxing. Oh well, she would forget what she knew and try. Freaking out was not acceptable. This demanded attention; she was terrified she would make the wrong decision. She needed to exhaust every possibility. She needed to stay rational and not expect too much. Right, because she never got her hopes up, she thought bitterly. If she hadn't been such a goddamn optimist, she would have stopped herself from falling in love with Patrick in the first place. Over the last thirteen months, Patrick had done almost a complete one-eighty; his fears of crashing and burning like his father kept him from changing completely. She didn't want him to change, loved him for who he was, and she figured that that was why she was so was incapable of just letting the cards fall where they may.

"What's the big emergency?" Patrick wondered, traipsing into the apartment as if to show how completely clueless he was about what Robin was about to tell him. His entire world was about to be turned upside down, just as hers had been. He would never understand. How would he react? They would fight. They always fought, but this time it would be incredible. He would accuse her of things. He would leave her. She was really getting ahead of herself. He had been the one to encourage her to do this, but then he hadn't exactly stepped up to get things in motion, had he?

"Sit down." Robin reached for his hands and he didn't pull away. At least he wasn't dreading the news. He had no idea there was news. She wanted to scream. She would just have to stay calm. It wouldn't do either of them any good to get all hysterical. She needed him to see reason and not let him think that she had signed him up for this without his consent. Didn't he think she was scared?

"Let me guess. You're having a spat with Carly and have been kicked out of the Metro Court. Now, you're in need of my mad culinary skills." Patrick traced his thumb over Robin's tightly drawn lips as he spoke. "You're scaring me, Scorpio." He admitted a moment later.

"Oh, just give me five minutes." Robin muttered. "Can I just say that I had no intention of...it wasn't my...I didn't plan this." She rambled, unsure how to get the words out. So much needed to be said, but she was already messing it up!

"What's going on in that mind of yours?" Patrick wanted to know, placing his hands over hers. His touch jarred Robin and she stood up, jerking her hands away so that she could return to her semi-calming act of pacing. Patrick raised an eyebrow at her, but she never turned to face him so she didn't see the amusement in his gaze. If only he knew what he was getting himself into.

She never should have kissed him, she decided. That had been her first mistake. This wasn't all due to that first kiss, but she blamed herself nonetheless. That kiss had led to so much more and now she was all alone. He would never accept this. She suddenly wished he wasn't here with her now. It was only a matter of time. As soon as she said the words, he would walk out and her fear would morph into a horrible reality to which there was no escape.

"Robin." Patrick'stone was low, barely above a whisper. He was clearly distressed by her behavior; at least he wasn't completely oblivious to the growing tension around them. Don't leave me, Robin silently begged. I can't take it if you do. I didn't do this on purpose. Please don't give up. I can't lose you. "You won't lose me." She hadn't meant to say it aloud. She hadn't realized she had until his assurance passed through the pounding in her head.

"I might." Gnawing on her lip, Robin folded her arms across her chest, looking toward the ceiling as if in question. God had no answers for her, so she decided to close her eyes and fight back the urge to cry. If she could just get the words out, then she would be able to breathe. She turned to Patrick who was literally on the edge of his seat, his fingers running over the rough denim of his blue jeans as he waited impatiently for her answer. Like a child; he was just like a child. "I"m pregnant." Even as she said it, she heard the defensiveness in her words. She was already apologizing for it. She brought her right hand to cover her forehead, reminding herself to breathe. This baby needed her to keep from falling apart. He deserved a good life. It was then that she truly felt alone; it was then that the walls she hid behind were shattered, and she allowed Patrick to see her true vulnerability.

"Pregnant?" He didn't sound pleased, but he wasn't blaming her for anything. Not yet. It would happen. It always did. He sat there, not making any move to touch her or offer her any kind of support. What had she been expecting? He was still Patrick Drake. No matter how many times he declared his feelings, no matter that he had managed to accept the idea of her living with him-none of it mattered now. This was a big deal no matter which way you sliced it. A baby required a lot of effort, a lot of attention. He would have to give up a part of himself if he planned on being the father his had never been for him. Oh God, she hadn't considered how this would damage his relationship with Noah. It wasn't as if she could have prevented it! "We used protection." And this was the Patrick Drake that she knew and loved.

"Nothing is completely foolproof." Robin informed him, swallowing tears. She hadn't known she was crying, had no way of knowing how long she had been doing so. Patrick wasn't interested in her pain. He was more worried about how his life would be affected. She needed to sit down-it'd be best to stop pacing-but she didn't want to sit next to him either.

"That's all you have to say?" Patrick's voice grew wild and angry, but Robin refused to meet his eyes. Let him have his temper tantrum about how unfair life was, about how much he hated her approach to what he was doing. She had done all the crying and breaking that she could stand for one day. Motherhood wasn't quite as scary when it was just a goal. This was reality; there was no way to go back because the situation seemed too risky. She had talked with Kelly and started the proper drug procedures to ensure that her condition wouldn't interfere with the health of their baby. She would tell him this just as soon as he quit snapping at her. She decided to wait him out, but he said nothing more.

"Am I not handling this how I should be? Do you think I didn't freak out, that I didn't demand a second test when Kelly told me?" Robin shrieked at him, ready to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. She sat down though her arms were flying out in front of her for emphasis. "I'm just as scared as you are!" She insisted, bending in half as her tears multiplied. She clenched her left hand into a fist and brought it to her mouth, trying to maintain some kind of control over the situation.

"I'm not scared. I'm surprised." Patrick clarified, clearly irritated that she would assume he, the big, bad doctor, might ever come in contact with inconvenient emotions. She thought she felt his hand on the small of her back, but she could have imagined it.

"You're surprised. Anything else?" Robin pressed, not sure what she wanted him to say. Marriage was ridiculous and unlikely. There was still so much to discover about the other; she wouldn't turn their baby into an excuse to get married. If, and only if, Patrick ever got up the courage to ask her, Robin wanted it to be because he loved her, not as a solution to a problem.

"What do you want from me?" Patrick shot back. "I don't know how I feel about any of this." He explained, jamming his hand into his chocolate brown hair as if that would somehow force everything to make sense.

"You don't want this baby, do you?" Robin's voice broke as she asked this, not completely aware of what she had just said. Her words were so cruel, so patronizing.

"You do?" Patrick inquired incredulously and Robin decided that she had been right; Patrick was going to do his best to live below her expectations.

"I know that abortion is out of the question." Robin clarified. "And I don't think I could give up our baby after holding him or her in my arms." She paused before continuing, "That"s not to say that I have any idea what I'm doing. My parents are far from role models and I don't like how Mac and Felicia raised my cousins."

"Hey." Patrick wrapped her in his arms turning her face so that her mouth was buried in the crook of his shoulder. He pressed softly against her stomach, proving to himself that she was less than three months along since he couldn't feel a determinate bump under his fingertips.

"I know you think I did this to trap you and I don't blame you for that." Robin mumbled into his purple button-down. "I was so afraid to tell you. You always said I was so strong, but I'm a coward!" Robin cried, blinking furiously as if she felt that crying was an absurd reaction.

"You aren't a coward. Let me tell you, if I were you and you were me, I wouldn't have been able to tell you that I was pregnant. Or…Okay so that didn't come out how I wanted it to." Patrick chuckled lightly. Robin twisted against him, tilting her head back so that she could see his eyes.

"I don't want to be your obligation." Robin whispered.

"I won't lie and say that I ever thought this could happen. I mean, yes, I'm aware of how babies are made before you start in on that lecture, Dr. Scorpio; I just never thought this could happen to me. God, I make it sound like-" Patrick scolded himself.

"It's okay." Robin countered, leaning into him. She needed his closeness, needed his support. Most of all, she needed to know that he was just as scared as she was.

"I'm not in any hurry to lose you. Let's take this one day at a time." Patrick informed Robin, kissing her hair.

She lifted her head and their gazes locked, her eyes slightly narrowed. "That's the most adult thing you've said. So rational." Robin complimented. Two seconds later she was in tears again. Patrick just held her to him and rocked her, wondering if he was mature enough to even fully understand this new responsibility.

When it was time for bed, Robin didn't even put up a fight. She was exhausted. Patrick fought sleep as long as humanly possible, so focused on her sleeping form that nothing else mattered, not even his own comfort. She rolled over onto his arm and, of course, it immediately went numb. He didn't try to move her, afraid he would wake her if he did. As difficult as it had been to hear the news, he knew it had been ten times worse for Robin to tell him. He wasn't comfortable with this newest development, so he didn't even try to lie to himself. Robin had said that she didn't want to be his obligation; it was his responsibility to make sure that she never felt like one, not her or the baby.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_September 12, 2007_

_**You come off so cool**_  
_**Denying emotions, the unwritten rule**_  
_**And it's getting so old**_  
_**To fear that you might lose control**_

"'Let's take this one day at a time?' What does that even mean? What's he planning to do? Does he want to be a part of the baby's life?" Brenda Barrett goaded, taking Robin's hands in hers as they sat having tea in her apartment. When life refused to make sense, Robin always found herself at Brenda's apartment, seeking advice. This wasn't to say that Brenda always had the right answer, just that she always had an answer ready. It might have seemed drastic for Robin to make such a long trip, but she didn't really have any friends in Port Charles that she was ready to share this news with.

Brenda was practically unbiased. She hadn't ever met Patrick due to the fact that there were two years in-between her leaving Port Charles and Patrick coming there to assist upon request. After being publicly scorned and humiliated at her wedding to Jasper Jacks, Brenda had gone to Jason Morgan. He, in turn, got Brenda on the first plane to Paris, France. Robin was her only real contact with Port Charles anymore since Sonny was too busy trying to remember which woman he was with and Jax was wound up in Carly's lies.

"I don't know. He needs time to think, but we haven't broken up. That's a good sign right?" Robin asked, her voice light but hopeful. She sunk back on the couch, lazily throwing her arms over her stomach as she waited for Brenda's take on things. Praying that in five months her decisions would be the right ones, Robin worried that she was in way over her head. Her solutions were based on suppositions. There was no stability to what she had with Patrick, no matter how hard she wished for it. He was so overwhelmed by everything. The reality was that he had helped create a baby and his decisions would affect their baby's life, no matter what he ended up doing. Robin always found herself holding his hand and assuring him that it would all work out.

"A good sign. Maybe. Don't give me that look. I only know Patrick from what you've told me and from what I recall, it isn't the prettiest picture. Especially the way things started off." Brenda added softly, taking a drink of her tea and staring down at the dark liquid thoughtfully. She wanted to give Robin the best case scenario, but she needed to stay realistic if she really meant to help her friend. This wasn't just about Robin or Patrick; there was a baby involved now, and that meant that both of them needed to consider the best option for it first. They were parents; on purpose or not, they were solely responsible for the well-being of the baby. She knew that her friend was far too naïve, especially when it came to her heart. There was nothing wrong with this and she wouldn't delude herself into believing that she wasn't the exact same way. She and Robin were merely friends over continents; they hadn't had a stable friendship in years. She wasn't in danger of siding with either of them; she did have to think about her future duties as an honorary aunt/godmother though.

"He lost his mother through unfair circumstances, and when his father should have been there to pick up the pieces, he ran away." Robin stated defensively, her insecurities spilling out like blood from an open wound. Only Brenda knew about their baby; neither of them was ready to tell the world until they had a set plan. This baby would change everything.

"What makes you so sure that Patrick won't do the same?" Brenda wondered in a steady voice, not wanting to pick a fight. Robin's hormones were erratic enough when she wasn't pregnant. She didn't want to dash her friend's hopes even if it was for the best; if it was up to her, if there wasn't another life to consider, Brenda would have blindly believed whatever Robin told her. As it stood, she didn't even know Patrick and that was going to have to change.

"He's so afraid of becoming Noah." Robin answered without hesitation.

"Do you trust him?" Brenda inquired, meeting Robin's eyes.

"No." Robin whispered, quickly brushing away a tear.

*****  
"Didn't I tell you this would happen?" Pete Marquez, Patrick's only acquaintance, chuckled.

"I don't remember you telling me that Robin would get pregnant." Patrick retorted, his temper too short to be talking to his good 'ole college buddy, Pete. He felt beaten down, confused, and left to clean up his own mess. Mess pretty much described the awkward life he had with Robin now. Whatever they had had before clearly wasn't strong enough to stand on its own, so, as it happened, they both changed dramatically to keep from having to end things.

"I said she would do whatever she had to do to keep you with her." Pete corrected, rolling his eyes at Patrick's statement. He downed his glass of scotch before setting up his shot and knocking two striped balls into the same side pocket.

"She didn't do this on purpose. You don't know her like I do." Patrick insisted, remembering how flustered Robin had been when she worked up the courage to tell him the truth. She wasn't a desperate woman; nor was she selfish or clingy. In the last few months, she had come to care about him, inadvertently pressuring him into admitting his feelings before he was even fully sure what the hell was going on. Did he love her? Yes he did. Had he ever planned on saying the words aloud? Only if she had had a gun aimed at his head.

"What do you really know about her? She seems to bounce from one guy to the next until they get tired of her." Pete replied, stepping back so that Patrick could take his shot. He was in the lead, but he might just let his confused friend win tonight.

"Her first love died." Patrick argued, missing his shot and swearing under his breath. "As far as the last guy she was with, she exposed him for the coward that he was, and he couldn't look at her after that." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, cringing at the tequila as it burned down his dry throat.

"You're so blind, buddy." Pete informed him, studying the balls in front of him before taking his turn.

"How am I blind? What would you do?" Patrick challenged, folding his arms over his chest.

"Me personally? I would get out before things got too complicated." Pete clarified without a moment's hesitation.

"How can I when she stayed with me after I was stuck with that needle? She didn't give up on me." Patrick sighed, squeezing his eyes shut when the world became nothing more than a hazy blur.

"You make her sound so noble, so perfect." Pete scoffed, taking the drink from Patrick and slamming it on the bar. Coleman barely glanced up at him.

"She's flawed and that's what made her so enticing." Patrick clarified, sounding like a stupid fool under the influence of improbable love. Pete could see it; why couldn't Patrick? Was he so desperate to make things work with Robin? Was it just to prove that he and Noah were nothing alike? Didn't he see that this was exactly what Noah would have done, exactly what he had ended up doing. Noah never would have left a pregnant Mattie, so why did Patrick feel the need to copy him in that respect?

"Is it worth throwing your life away because of a mistake? Is she worth losing your freedom?" Pete demanded, shaking Patrick's shoulders so that he opened his eyes. Patrick's gaze was dark and spooky. He wasn't even here in his mind. He was so obviously drunk that there was only one solution: he had to take him home. Robin would throw a fit if Patrick showed up this way, but it was about time she realized what she was going to be dealing with if she kept up her little charade.

*****  
Robin was ripped from her dreams by the sounds of loud talking and the shattering of a lamp. She reached for her taser, not trusting Patrick's alarm system, and tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room where the noise originated from. The lights flipped on and she paused, her location obvious as she stood on the last step of the stairs. She narrowed her eyes when she noticed Pete in her apartment. He never looked up at her, just helped a stumbling Patrick to the couch. Robin watched in horror, wanting to shut her eyes to clear the scene from her mind.

"Hey Robin." Pete waved his hand at her and Robin barely gave him a nod of recognition. "Sorry if I woke you up. It seems Patrick had one too many drinks tonight. I wanted to make sure he got home all right." Pete went on, feeling obligated to explain.

"And I'm sure you have no idea how he got to be inebriated?" Robin sneered through her teeth. Pete only shrugged his shoulders.

"Thank you so much for bringing him back to me. There really is no other reason for you to hang around. I'm sure you have something important to do." She hurried him toward the door, her nails digging into his back as she pushed him forward.

"I am doing something important: I'm taking care of my friend." Pete shot back, frowning at Robin's sharp tone.

"Taking care of him? By getting him drunk? Maybe you should look up the word friend in the dictionary. You must have misread the definition." Robin snapped, opening the door for him.

"Congratulations on your kid. It's a little hard to think that Patrick's reproducing." Pete mused. "Before you start in on your lecture, think about how all of this is affecting Patrick. You really think he's strong enough to handle something like this?" He stood in the doorway so that she couldn't kick him out without hearing what he had to say.

"You make it sound like I got myself pregnant." Robin was angry, more so than she had been in a very long time. Only Carly Corinthos could provoke this kind of reaction from her.

"Didn't you? You wanted Patrick and so maybe you did what you could to make sure that a baby was in your near future." Pete declared judgmentally.

"If you're implying that maybe I suggested we leave a condom off or something, you obviously don't understand the situation. If we were ever to have unprotected sex, I could infect Patrick with HIV. As his best friend, shouldn't you know this? Shouldn't you have all of the facts before jumping to conclusions?"

"I don't know why he thought you were worth the risk, or the trouble." Pete shook his head and left. Fighting back the urge to cry, Robin twisted around to face the couch where Patrick had passed out.

"He's wrong. You know that, don't you?" Robin asked, not expecting an answer. "He's right about it being hard for you to deal with this, but that's just it: you don't deal with pregnancy. We've clearly gone about this the wrong way. When you wake up, after I make as much noise as possible, you're off the hook. I won't let our child become the excuse you need to go out and get drunk." She pressed a warm kiss to his forehead and returned upstairs, wishing that there was another way. If she walked away now, Patrick wouldn't have to live with guilt. He wouldn't have to be blamed for them not lasting; she would take full credit.

**Author's Notes: Song credit goes to Scott Clifton's "De**ep."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_September 17, 2007_

Elizabeth Imogene Webber stepped onto the train platform holding two suitcases. Growing tired of her parents, she hadn't even told them she was leaving. They might remember when they sent out the family photo to all of their friends and business associates at Christmas, a good eleven months away. She had seen Port Charles on a map of New York a few years back. It was only today that she worked up the courage to hop on a train and never look back. It never helped to look back; it only ever ended in regret and a string of "what if's." Elizabeth had watched her parents do this: live their lives in total regret. She assumed that she was on the list of things that they would take back if they could. She had recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday, barely legal in case she ended up falling in love with an older man. The idea was ludicrous; who would love her of their own free will? She had met plenty of men who told her those three little words; men who had made her believe it because they had said it several times. They only ever said it when they wanted something from her; all they ever wanted was sex.

She had come here because of a man, desperate to escape him. He hadn't been abusive. She might have even loved him. They had tumbled into bed two weeks after they started dating. He was in partnership with her father which made the affair that much more exciting. She had thought she could handle it without getting wound up in a mess of lies and familiar promises. The first time they had sex, she told him she loved him. He had grown silent, somehow convincing her to let him inside of her again and again. She hadn't known that his divorce wasn't final until she walked into his house without invitation. She had memorized her father's credit card numbers when she was ten years old, so she had immediately gone to the train station after finding him in bed with his supposed ex. It had been a major blow to Elizabeth's pride. To think that she had let him touch her, let him have her heart before he ever asked for it. She hated him now.

If she was lucky, no one would notice her at all. She was out of school, having graduated last May, so there was no fear of being labeled as "the new girl." She just wanted to find a place to live, a place where she could lock the doors behind her and never have to face the outside world if she didn't want to. If Port Charles was anything like the rest of the world, they would accept her money without ever expecting an explanation for why she was there.

The first place she stumbled onto was a diner named Kelly's. It said family-owned in small white letters under the open sign. Family? Well good for them. Maybe families actually mattered here. It was a small-town; she wouldn't have been surprised to see married cousins and inbred children. Her sister had warned her about places like this. Everyone was so closely knitted together that there were no distinct differences between the residents. They probably paraded around in overalls and chewed tobacco.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" A tall, somewhat built, blond demanded when Elizabeth's arm collided with her full coffee cup. The scalding liquid hit the woman in the face causing her to scream in pain and Elizabeth leapt back suddenly on alert.

"Sorry." Elizabeth mumbled, noticing how smartly the woman dressed. She wore a long, navy blue suit, a black scarf, six-inch black heels, and a small beaded black purse that reached her waist. Her shoulder-length light lemon-yellow hair flew from side to side as she shook her head angrily.

"You will be." The woman promised, dropping her coffee cup into a nearby trashcan and storming away, wiping her face with a Kleenex she had neatly folded in her breast pocket.

Unperturbed, Elizabeth sauntered into the tiny diner, her eyes falling on the elderly man behind the bar. He looked like a farmer in his red-and-white striped button-down shirt and faded blue jeans. His frosted hair reached the top of his ears, he had a scruffy five o'clock shadow, and his eyes showed him to be in his early sixties. He had a white apron hung low on his hips and a mess of tickets in front of him. He did what he could to sort through them before pulling out a drawer from under the register and knocking the papers inside, proving that what you didn't see wouldn't hurt you.

"What can I get you?" Mike Corbin wondered, watching Elizabeth hop up on a bar stool, her tousled chestnut locks resting against her short-sleeved, aquamarine top. She crossed her legs, the length of her cutoff blue jeans barely able to cover any part of her skin. She was a stranger he realized a minute later after running through a list of names and faces to whom she might have belonged to.

"What? Oh, nothing." Elizabeth shook her head; not wanting to know what went on in that kitchen. It was probably covered in white, dried grease and baby mice. No rats. There were probably rats. The tables appeared clean and there weren't any crumbs on the ground, but her stomach turned at the idea of accepting any type of edible treat from this place.

"You must want something." Mike argued gesturing toward her as if he saw something she didn't.

"It said outside that you rent rooms. I was wondering if there are any vacancies." Elizabeth stated, sliding her dark sunglasses onto her head so that Mike could determine the true color of her eyes: ocean-blue.

"We have two rooms. I'll have…" Mike paused, searching the room for any of his employees but finding no one. "I'll show them to you and you can choose which one you'd like. The rate is pretty cheap: a hundred a week."

"That is cheap. How do you keep this place afloat?" Elizabeth inquired, though she was just trying to be friendly. Perhaps the rats in the kitchen had connections with the mob.

"The food." Mike told her, leading her up the stairs.

"You know, I think I can do it myself. Tell me the numbers on the doors and I'll take a look. Can I have the keys?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

"I really don't think-" At that moment, a dozen customers walked into the diner, forcing him to give in. "Eighteen or twenty-three? I'm Mike by the way." He added as an afterthought.

"Twenty-three. Elizabeth." She replied feeling obligated to do so.

"Elizabeth…?" Mike pressed.

"My first name is all that matters. Is that all right with you, Mike?" Elizabeth challenged, snatching the key from him.

"I don't need to know your troubles or reasons for showing up here. I'll expect your rent the first of every month and the last two months as your deposit." Mike informed her.

"I'll leave some money in an envelope under the cash register with all of your bills." Elizabeth decided, hopping up the stairs.

"If you get hungry, I'll whip up something." Mike offered.

"I'm sure I'll just order a pizza or something. I'd hate to put you to any trouble." She called down the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_September 24, 2007_

"What do you mean, it won't go through?" Elizabeth's eyes flashed angrily as she leaned into the counter of the grocery store. There were a dozen people behind her, but they would just have to wait. This was her life. Her face was red with embarrassment and…anger! Yes, she was angry! She was shocked that this sort of thing could happen to her. She adjusted her black leather jacket over her crimson, spaghetti-strapped dress. Her high-maintenance chestnut hair was in deep need of conditioner, but she had left hers at home, and she didn't trust this town.

"It says that the card is invalid." The short, caramel-brown haired cashier informed her.

"That's bullshit! It's my card!" Elizabeth screamed, slamming her hands onto the counter like a child. "I need to speak with your supervisor." She went on, about ready to jump over the counter and strangle the teenager with her perfect, manicured nails. The toe of her white flats tapped impatiently against the squeaky floor.

"She's at lunch." The cashier countered, looking a poor, pathetic coward who would run as soon as Elizabeth turned her back.

"Then call her back here!" Elizabeth ordered, meeting the burnt tapioca stare of the teller.

"I have to check everyone else out. You should consult your bank." The girl suggested.

Elizabeth glanced at the nametag that hung haphazardly over the girl's white cotton blouse. "I'll have your job, Georgie." She vowed, storming out of the store.

She was practically thrown out of the thrift store posing as a whole food establishment! The nerve of that stupid girl! Not to worry, she always had a plan. She didn't have one right then, but she would before the day was out. Gnawing on her nails, smiling at the thought of her mother catching her doing such a thing, she sunk down on a bench in front of the library that happened to be across from the grocery store. It wasn't a large library, but then why would it be? This was a small town filled with small-minded people, Elizabeth mused angrily. She would show them not to mess with her.

Since her card clearly wasn't of any use to her-she would call her father and demand an explanation when her ears stopped ringing-she found a park and walked around a picture perfect pond, staring unseeingly at the brown and white ducks, the fluster of geese, and, rarely, she'd notice the flapping of a fish. It was the middle of the afternoon, so there was no reason for anyone to be around. They had to be at the Blue collar jobs to support their low-class lifestyles. At a park in the middle of the day? It was uncalled for, she bet. When there was money to be made, they were at work. As a port town, she wondered how it was able to stay afloat.

The sights and sounds were quite relaxing. Elizabeth took her neon blue iPod from her purse and pushed the ear buds into her ears. She heard a sound behind her, but she just turned the volume up on her player and shut her eyes. There was a slight migraine building in her head. She knew the cause. Money always stressed her out, well not having any. Why had he cancelled her card? She hadn't even been gone twenty-four hours! Had he gotten into trouble with the law? Had he fled to Mexico? Ridiculous, slightly amusing, scenarios started playing out in her mind.

It was only when her iPod was knocked onto the concrete did Elizabeth even think to look behind her. Apparently, the culprit was holding a beige purse with a long strap and a buckle on the front. Hadn't she just seen that purse in a magazine? Clearly, she wasn't the only one lost in suburbia. The girl, looking to be a few years younger than her eighteen years, had honey-blonde hair, her curls so long they fell to the small of her back. Her eyes were sparkling or she might have been crying. It was unclear from this angle. Where were they? Vegas? Why was it so bright out? Elizabeth slid her sunglasses on and took in the scene in front of her.

She was fighting with a guy that seemed to be her age but could have easily been older. His hair was short and spiked the color just a shade lighter than the girl's. Elizabeth reached down to retrieve her iPod before she turned completely around to figure out what the spat was about. They were too far away from her to hear what they were saying; apparently something had escaped the purse and knocked Elizabeth's player from her loose grip. The guy slid an uncertain hand through his hair and tugged at the girl's handbag. Was he a mugger? Did Port Charles have those? And here she had thought that they were a criminal-free-everyone-hold-hands kind of town. Her dreams were dashed for sure.

Sighing, not wanting to get in the middle of this, Elizabeth approached them, their voices soft and muffled as they spoke. It was only when the girl's voice rose did Elizabeth slide her hand into her own bag and retrieve her weapon. She charged forward like a lost Yeti, screaming all the way, and brought her hairbrush down so that it smacked the guy in the face. He went down like a sack of potatoes and the girl met Elizabeth's shiny eyes with her own fearful ones.

"It's…okay." Elizabeth assured her, attempting to put her hand on the girl's shoulder for comfort, but bending forward instead to catch her breath.

"Are you high on something?" The girl wanted to know.

"I can't even afford a cup of coffee. Don't worry though. He can't hurt you now. He's down." Elizabeth insisted.

"You just assaulted my friend for no reason!" This was what doing the right thing got you: a pain in the ass.

"He grabbed your bag!" Elizabeth argued.

"He wanted an embarrassing picture I took of him." The girl shot back.

"How was I supposed to know that? This stupid town. "Elizabeth muttered.

"You don't like Port Charles? Go back to wherever it is you came from. I'm sure you can fly away on a broomstick." The girl replied, crouching down next to her unconscious friend and brushing his hair away from his eyes.

"I was just trying to help. I was mistaken." Elizabeth forced the words through clenched teeth, not wanting to fight with anyone else today. Couldn't they just leave her alone? She didn't go looking for trouble; it just knew where to find her.

"What's your name?" The girl inquired, rolling her eyes when the guy moaned aloud.

"Why? Are we friends now?" Elizabeth asked sardonically.

"I just want to know what to tell the cops so they can arrest you for assault." She clarified.

"It was a hairbrush!" Elizabeth insisted.

"A blunt instrument is a blunt instrument." The girl retorted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Author's Notes: Song credit goes to My Chemical Romance's "Ghost of You."**

_October 9, 2007_

**_And all the things that you never, ever told me_**  
**_And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me_**  
**_And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me_**  
**_For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me_**

"What's up Doc? What's my diagnosis? Is it cancer? Is there a cure?" Aussie Kaplan persisted, swinging her black-and-raspberry-red braids from side to side as if she were trying to portray Punky Broodster. According to her chart, she was sixteen years old and attended Blackmore High School. Her eyes were a translucent green and there was a faint memory of a dimple in each of her cheeks. For now, she looked flushed, folding into herself as she awaited Robin's news. If she had been standing, she would still be a good six inches shorter than Robin. This fact almost made Robin want to call up everyone who had ever called her short and shove it in their face. Patrick had called her travel size much to her displeasure. When they would get into arguments, he would simply pick her up and kiss her, winning a reproachful look even as her body melted into his. He had made the mistake of holding a chart above her head, teasing her, to which she had responded by kneeing him in the crotch. He hadn't done it again.

"Are you always this optimistic?" Robin half-mocked, opening her chart to give herself something to focus on. "You have mononucleosis." She stated, sitting next to Aussie so that she could answer any questions the girl might have.

"Mono? From what? Oh, that asshole! He gave me mono? Are you sure?" Each time she finished a sentence, her voice rose. It was as if Robin had just presented her with a life-threatening disease.

"It's called the 'kissing disease,' but you can get it from simply sharing a straw with someone." Robin informed Aussie, even as the girl slipped into her alter state of consciousness. "It'll only last about three weeks and then you're in the clear. During that time, I'm afraid your symptoms are only going to get worse, sometimes confining you to bed if you work your body too hard."

"Well that explains my exhaustion and my sore throat. Can you give me anything for it?" Aussie asked, her eyes widening in hope. It was a simple disease, nothing like what she could be facing. Robin swallowed back her unjustifiable jealousy. She wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere begging to die. She was blessed to be carrying the baby that she had always wanted, knowing that it had been conceived in love.

"For the sore throat, I'd suggest chewing gum or drinking tea. You mentioned becoming feverish and, I have to warn you; just because your fever breaks, that doesn't mean I want you trotting off to school thinking you're no longer sick." Robin warned, playing with Stone's ring as it rested on her right index finger.

"Yes ma'am. And, for the record, 'trotting' isn't considered acceptable language anymore unless you want to get beat up." Aussie told Robin, raising her chin as she divulged her facts as if they were a secret.

"I'll try and remember that." Robin smiled, reaching for the teenager's left hand and helping her to her feet. "Are your parents here?" Robin hadn't seen anyone bring the girl in and, as she stuck her head out the door, she didn't see anyone waiting to escort the girl home.

"No. They don't know and I don't want them to. I'll call my aunt and stay with her for a few weeks until I'm better. I don't want to inconvenience anyone." Aussie replied, slinging her cream colored purse over her shoulder as she made her way toward the door.

"All right. I won't tell them, as it is against the law for me to do so, but I hope you will." Robin called after her.

Aussie paused before she could successfully make it to the hallway. "It's just mono, like you said. It's not like I have AIDS or anything." With a quick smile, Aussie turned to leave and Robin made no move to stop her. She felt numb all over. If it wasn't for a swift kick from her unborn child, she might have stayed in that spot for hours, staring at nothing in particular. The world was in full tilt, as it usually was due to her pregnancy and the after effects of her new medications; she barely made it to the bathroom before emptying her system.

*****

"I'm not responsible for who gets it." Patrick barked into the phone, attracting the attention of passersby and nurses. It was nothing new. Patrick shook his hand and swiped his hand over the counter, knocking a stack of charts onto the ground. Epiphany nodded her head, motioning toward Maxie and Georgie Jones, their newest volunteers, and then smacked Patrick in the back of the head for acting like an adolescent.

"Ow." Patrick whined, rubbing his throbbing head. "What? The furniture? She wanted it so badly…send it to her new place. I have no use for anything. She can have it all."

"I didn't know Dr. Drake was getting a divorce." Maxie whispered to Georgie.

"Don't be stupid. He's not even married. He's talking about Robin. Remember her? Our cousin." Georgie supplied, receiving an eye roll from her older sister.

"You don't have to treat me like an idiot." Maxie shot back, planting her hands on her hips.

"You don't have to make it so easy. I didn't know they'd broken up. I wonder what's going on." Georgie mused, tilting her head to one side, mimicking their family dog.

"Since when are you interested in other people's lives? I mean, I thought you hated to pry." Maxie pointed out, flipping her cropped blond hair out of her face as if it was there just to annoy her.

"I'm not going to pry. Have you heard from Robin lately?" Georgie inquired when they were out of earshot. She handed her sister four quarters for the vending machine directly in front of them and Maxie selected a soda and a candy bar.

"When is that new? She never calls us anymore. We aren't neglecting her; she's clearly avoiding us." Maxie decided without hesitation.

"Do you say these things just to hear yourself talk? Really, Maxie." Georgie patronized, unwrapping her candy bar as Maxie took a long drink of her Diet Pepsi.

Epiphany waited until Patrick was off the phone before giving his head another smack. "Would you stop doing that?" He snapped, jamming his hand into his hair.

"If you're having a personal spat with Dr. Scorpio, handle it on your own time. This is a hospital. You have breaks for a reason. Take them. Don't make the rest of the staff suffer because Robin left you." Epiphany demanded, nodding her head in the opposite direction so that Patrick could take his pouting elsewhere. He stormed past her.

While he was more hurt by Robin's decision than angry, it was easier to just stay mad. The emotions were straightforward and manageable. If you were angry, you had a target. It wasn't like being hurt where you couldn't distinguish one emotion from the other, never knowing how to dull the pain. Staying angry kept him numb and that was what he wanted. If he was numb, he wouldn't have to think about waking up to a hellish hangover and the sight of Robin's key on the side table. There hadn't even been a note. He had checked their room and all of her belongings were gone. When he called her later that day, after his hangover subsided and concentration didn't make his head throb, he finally reached her on her cell. She explained, in a short and emotionless tone, that he didn't have to worry, that she and their baby were going to be just fine. If he wanted a part in the its, he had more than enough leeway. She mentioned nothing of their personal relationship as if she had suffered through it in order to get her baby.

He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweat clinging to his eyelashes. It would drip down his face and down the back of his neck so that it soaked into his shirt. He would instinctively turn to where Robin had been, where she should have been, where she had seemingly always been. He would have to shut off his brain and fall into oblivion once more when he saw that she wasn't there anymore. He struggled desperately for mindless dreams that promised no purpose or meaning.

Patrick wouldn't let himself think about what would happen in four months. He had gotten a call from Kelly Lee, Robin's obstetrician, and she informed him of the visit which would include a sonogram of the baby. At least Robin hadn't cut him off completely. As far as they were concerned, she was done, not even waiting to hear his reasons for going out and getting drunk with Pete, automatically assuming that he had hoped to crush everything that they had. She hadn't given him a second thought or an ounce of consideration. Maybe he was a tad bit angry.

Several times he had called his dad only to hang up when the older man answered. Just his voice offered comfort, but Patrick was too ashamed to tell his father how badly he had screwed things up with Robin. Noah Drake had immediately taken a liking to Robin and had warned Patrick that, if he wasn't careful, she would be gone. It wasn't until Patrick sat here, on a bench in the locker room, having grown tired of punching the defenseless lockers, that he came to the realization that he hadn't ever considered himself capable of losing Robin to anything short of death.

He didn't continue on that particular train of thought, not wanting to deal with this here, not wanting to face the facts that she had decided to stop wasting her time with him, that she had grown wary of his intentions toward her. How had she expected him to react? She had mentioned motherhood to Patrick months ago, a few weeks after he got stuck with an infected needle, and he had meant what he said about her being an incredible mother. She had put their child before her and it wasn't even born yet, had cut ties with him instead of dragging all three of them into a bitter, screaming fight that would only add stress to her pregnancy. The cards were already stacked against her, her HIV status hopeful but still a nagging problem that she had no choice but to deal with. Patrick had gotten a list of all of the medications Robin was on from Kelly not understanding why he had requested it. Maybe it was his way of staying in her life…as if sharing a baby with her wasn't enough.

He had brought this on himself though, hadn't he? He had gone with Pete that night instead of staying home with Robin and reading to the baby or doing whatever it was that expectant parents did. It had been important that she trusted him and, for a little while, he had come to believe that she did. Pete had convinced him to go out drinking; he had needed a break from his life for a few hours. He hadn't intended to get anywhere near drunk, hadn't wanted to give Robin the reason she needed to leave him, the excuse that she had just been waiting for.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_October 11, 2007_

"I appreciate it more than you'll ever know." Robin smiled, taking Brenda's suitcase and hailing a cab. She had begged Brenda to keep her company for the time being. Brenda had done one better: she had gotten out of her lease and offered to stay with Robin until the baby was born. It was selfish to need her friend as desperately as she did, to let her give up whatever life she might have had in Paris, but the nights were too cold and she needed to know someone was behind her. Patrick had made it quite clear by his lack of trying that he wanted nothing to do with either her or his child. It was probably just as well; she didn't want him using their baby as a way for him to redeem himself. As far as their relationship, it had gone up in smoke and, according to her doctor, it might not be the best thing to fight. Befuddled by Kelly's reaction, Robin had asked her to elaborate. Kelly had informed Robin that her system was already compromised and that added stress might result in a sudden miscarriage. Robin had phoned Brenda in tears and her friend had flown in on the Red Eye.

"It's all I could do to stay away this long." Brenda assured her, pulling the younger woman into her arms and holding on to her for a few seconds before stepping back. She noticed the tears on Robin's cheeks and used her gloved hand to wipe them away. They both slid into the cab, Robin first and then Brenda. Robin gave the driver her address just as Brenda closed the door behind her. Brenda stared out the window, having missed Port Charles more than she was willing to let on. Robin rested her head against the cold window and shut her eyes, telling herself that it would all be okay now. Nothing could hurt her now. She would avoid Patrick at all costs. Her heart broke as she vowed this and she was barely able to keep from sobbing there in her friend's company. The tears were there, but Robin managed to keep them from slipping through her closed eyelids. Her hands clutched the strap of her tiny maroon handbag, her fingertips whitening under the pressure. She couldn't blame her hormones for this; this was her own fault, her own inner demons. She couldn't trust Patrick to love her, had yelled at him for ever saying that he felt the way he did, and then she had challenged him far too harshly, knowing that he never would accept it. He hadn't been ready for this.

Brenda's subtle touch on Robin's shoulder was enough for her to break down and cry. The cabdriver seemed unaffected as Robin sobbed loudly, fighting against Brenda's hold when she tried to restrain her. It was the first time she had really allowed herself to cry in over a month. She was angry, at Patrick, at the world too, but mostly at Patrick. She had done enough self-analysis, recognizing this as her fault, taking full blame for it. Now it was time to turn her blame on Patrick since he shared at least half of it, he had earned as much. Just the thought of him at Jake's with Pete talking about how she had complicated his life with something that she clearly hadn't done to herself made little shivers run down her back. She screamed out, thinking about how he had gone to Pete instead of her, how he had shared his fears-fears that mirrored her own-with a man who hated her and had no idea what the situation was. He considered Robin a leech and Patrick must have picked up on it. She had just needed him to say that he was scared, but he hadn't even been able to admit that. She had left him and he was just fine, she bet. He might be avoiding the opposite sex for the time being, but she doubted that that would always ring true. His results were in and now he was free to do whatever he wanted. She should have forced his hand when it came to their baby, but she hadn't wanted to have to, hadn't thought she would need to. She had truly believed that he would step up and be the man that she needed him to be. A self-fulfilling prophecy, Robin declared. He had actually convinced himself that he would let her down.

"If you don't want to decide on paint chips right now for the nursery, I won't make you." Brenda promised in a soothing tone. Robin just nodded, crying harder, burying her face into Brenda's shoulder. Brenda's embrace swallowed her up and she told herself to find comfort in this. Brenda had been overly protective of her before the pregnancy; she wouldn't put it past her friend to come up with a way to keep her in a protective bubble.

"I hate him. I just-hate him." Robin choked hard enough for her tears to multiply. She had to turn her face away, had to wipe the vulnerability from her features.

"Robin-" Brenda began in a steady voice.

"Don't patronize me!" Robin warned. "If I want to hate him, I get to!" Robin demanded. Brenda nodded in response and Robin collapsed into her arms once more just as the cab pulled up to her building. Both women pulled apart and Brenda held her suitcase in her right hand while she used her left hand to ease Robin to her feet. When she met her friend's eyes, the tears were dried and, if it hadn't been for the red cheeks, she might have thought that the emotional outburst was all in her mind.

"You can take the room across the hall for now. I don't have a lot of furniture, just a bed and a nightstand. Lucky said he would bring me an armoire so that you'll have a place to keep your clothes. You didn't bring a lot with you." Robin's words were monotonous, her tone never changed. She sounded dead, her voice barely above a cracked whisper. She was a withering at the ripe old age of twenty-four. Her once lively chestnut hair was drawn back in a cedar-brown clip and her unruly bangs were kept back with several bobby pins. Brenda, six years Robin's elder, felt like the younger of the two.

"It's late." Brenda told Robin, brushing her amber-brown hair behind her ear and inadvertently hovering as she helped the woman to her room.

"I changed the sheets and got two large comforters for your bed." Robin stated, never meeting Brenda's eyes.

"It'll get easier. Pretty soon, it'll be a part of our routine. Instead of calling each other when there's a problem, I'll just be across the hall. Easier access." Brenda smirked, but Robin didn't look up.

"About what happened in the cab…" Robin murmured.

"We're all allowed to break-" Brenda hurried to insist her.

"I want to apologize for it. It won't happen again." Robin declared with a quick nod of her head.

"Don't shut me out. We're best friends." Brenda reminded her.

"You've been gone. I've changed a lot. We'll have to work on adjusting. I'm really tired. I'll see you in the morning." Robin offered Brenda a forced smile and then shut her bedroom door, stalking over to the bed. All of the nights since the one Patrick had come home drunk Robin had been plagued with nightmares; tonight, she was given a reprieve and fell into sleep as soon as she dropped her head onto the pillow.

Brenda stayed up longer than she had anticipated, but her reason for doing so was logical. She hadn't seen Robin this broken since the night Stone died. Jason had driven her out of town, but she had only really cried once for him, had moved on, had accepted that he would never be hers again. Patrick was breaking her heart; he didn't even have to be here to do so. Robin's thoughts, her memories, kept him with her. She realized that he wasn't going to be coming back.

It stunned Brenda how Robin had completely written Patrick off without a single argument. She had told Brenda that they hadn't even run into each other since the break-up. Patrick must have gotten the clue, because he hadn't even attempted a phone call, at least not one that Robin had ever divulged to Brenda.

Hormones aside, Robin was nothing but a shell of the young woman Brenda had left years before. Her smiles were forced, her tears were synchronized, and her pain was put on hold for a more convenient time. Her life revolved around her work; she had always been able to put one foot in front of the other even when it killed her. Thanks to that stupid Dr. Kelly Lee, Robin was terrified to even face Patrick out of fear that she would lose their baby if she did. Robin was a lot stronger than anyone ever gave her credit for. A simple argument between her and Patrick wouldn't be enough to end her pregnancy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_October 17, 2007_

How Elizabeth Webber came to work at the hospital was still a bit fuzzy to her. After her run-in with the law, or rather its little sister Lulu Spencer since the girl had mentioned that her brother was a cop, she had gone to her grandmother, Audrey Hardy's house. She had been the one to suggest the opening for nurses. As the youngest in a family of doctors, Elizabeth had always figured she would get a degree as well. Why not nursing? It wasn't the most glamorous job in the world but, thanks to her father, she had no other means of money. She would die before she worked in that cockroach-infected diner. You didn't work where you slept; everyone knew that.

She had called Dr. Alan Quartermaine, the hospital administrator, and he set up a meeting for her with Ms. Sneed. If the woman had had a first name, Elizabeth was never given such information. The woman had been positively primeval as she went down her list of questions she had set aside for Elizabeth. Some of the questions made total sense; others did not. If Ms. Sneed had expected her to slip up, she had truly underestimated her. Elizabeth had been read medical journals as a baby instead of fairytales; her father had brought home his patients' charts and asked Elizabeth to diagnose them based on their symptoms; and between her brother and sister, she had had several trips to the hospital herself. There wasn't a thing about medicine that she hadn't encountered.

As it was, she had only worked at the hospital for six weeks. In that time, she had collected all the information on the rest of the staff that she needed in case one of them decided to cross her. As a rule, she did this for both her friends and enemies, because the line between them always seemed to be thin and blurry. She had the schedules of all of the doctors memorized; she was a walking book of knowledge she thought proudly. After an encounter with Dr. Drake, Elizabeth had been determined to figure out why he was so angry and, if that was just his way, why his eyes were always bloodshot as if he spent the nights crying out against the injustice of the world. Then, as if to answer her question, she had met Dr. Scorpio and put two and two together. As angry as Patrick Drake was, that was how troubled and solemn Robin Scorpio was. It was only natural to give into the urge to combine their schedules today. She wanted them to work out whatever issues they might have. Besides, it would be interesting to watch it all unfold.

Much to her displeasure, Dr. Scorpio took a sick day thereby messing up Elizabeth's plans. It was infuriating! Once Brenda explained to her what was going on, Elizabeth had enlisted herself to help get them at least in the same room together. It made no sense for Robin to miss work today, unless she really was sick. Brenda wouldn't steal her away from work when Elizabeth was doing her best to help the older couple out. It was no secret that Robin was pregnant: on the contrary, everyone knew. Gossip traveled fast throughout this hospital, fast enough to make Elizabeth's head spin. She bet the staff had been giving Patrick trouble for walking out, even though that wasn't the case. In situations such as this one, the truth rarely mattered to the crowded masses.

*****

OCTOBER 25, 2007

An epidemic hit Port Charles at such a catastrophic rate that it took the staff at General by total surprise. Slipping in with Luke Spencer and his primate, it had already struck down several citizens of the town. Everyone who worked at the Hospital was forced into a state of panic. They were decked out in all sorts of protective outfits complete with leather gloves and masks. So far, the epidemic was only spread through intimate contact with an infected person; it was only a matter of time before it became airborne. The second Patrick Drake realized this, he searched every floor until he found Robin. Not only was she at risk due to her HIV status, but her pregnancy was less than stable as well, and he wasn't willing to risk their lives just because he and Robin weren't speaking.

He found her checking on Skye Chandler, the first person to come down with the epidemic. It was a shock to see her after all of this time with her right hand resting casually over her growing belly and her flowing cinnamon hair flying out in all directions. Patrick couldn't see her eyes from where he was standing and it bothered him. He wanted to twirl her around and see those sizzling brown eyes shooting sparks at him. He didn't dare step toward her even though every part of him craved her. It physically hurt to be this far away from her. At least before he hadn't had to be around her, hadn't had to watch the world wear her down. He could see the chip on her shoulder growing with each passing second he stood there.

"Robin." Her name on his lips made her blood go suddenly cold. Her eyes darted to the right and she noticed him standing awkwardly in the doorway. If she had thought his hair was tousled before, it was downright ridiculous now. She wanted to rake her fingers through it, wanted to-well it really didn't matter what she wanted, did it? She cautiously watched him, noting how impressively thin he was as if he hadn't eaten since the last time they spoke. His skin was still tanned from their vacation at the beginning of last summer which was amazing to her. There were dark lines circling both of his eyes, too black for her to write them off as an argument gone badly, and his skin was drawn tightly over his bones.

Robin left Skye, giving her hand a soft squeeze before exiting the room. Patrick followed, as she had known he would, but she didn't face him. The air was thick enough to make her want to gag, but she fought the urge and swallowed the bile down so that it bit into the thin layer of her throat. Blinking furiously, she stiffened her back to keep her body from going into a shaking fit.

Patrick's hands fell to her shoulders and he convinced her to at least acknowledge his presence. He was holding her close enough to him that he felt that first involuntary shake. She wasn't as numb to him as she had hoped to be. Her skin was pale under his hands and he furrowed his brows in worry. What kind of strain had she put herself through in their time apart? He hated that he hadn't been there, but the rational part of his brain said that she would have slammed the door in his face. He had even missed the sonogram appointment, his first excuse since the break-up to see her, because Epiphany had scheduled him for two additional surgeries that day and he hadn't been able to get out of it. He had called Kelly only to have her tell him that the baby was healthy. He hadn't asked the sex, having wanted to experience that moment with the woman he still loved.

"What do you want, Patrick?" Robin wondered, leading him into her office since the hallway was filled with patients. It wasn't fair for them to be on breaks when the entire town was at risk, but she couldn't just leave. She needed this time away from the death and the madness; she needed to be this close to Patrick and pretend that he was still her rock, her constant. He stood in front of her now, daring her to look up at him. A part of her wanted to. She wished she were brave enough to just grab him and kiss him without having to worry about the consequences. She had done it once before, but all that had been on the line then was her pride; now she had to consider her baby.

"What are you still doing here, Robin?" Patrick wanted to know, unable to stop himself from tilting her chin with the tip of his thumb. She stared first at his hand and then, finally, her eyes burned into his. He kept his hand where it was, his fingers caressing the side of her cheek so that she would lean into his touch. She quickly took in a breath, gulping because his intense stare intimidated her. He picked a leaf from her hair, studying it with amusement before dropping it onto the floor.

"It's my job to be here. I'm supposed to be out there." Robin answered evasively, smacking his hand from her face, amazed how cold she felt when she put some distance between them.

"You need to be at home." Patrick argued, slamming his hand into the wooden door so that Robin couldn't free herself of him. He could see her in his mind, unconscious in a corner having been exposed to the epidemic, even as he told himself that such a thing hadn't happened…at least not yet. Robin took in his closeness and folded her arms across her chest. Patrick unwound her arms wrapped them around his waist, drawing her into his arms and holding her in-between his body and the door. Her legs dangled helplessly as she clutched onto his waist and he used this to his advantage, kneeing her legs apart so that he could settle himself flush up against her. He wasn't rough with her, not even a little bit, but his kiss bruised her lips. His hands slid up her blouse stinging her skin like acid rain and she worried she might fall. Noticing her discomfort, Patrick let her slide down the door, let her run all over his body, the slow motion enough to make him forget why he had stayed away so long.

"What makes you think that you have any right to tell me what to do?" Robin defied him, even now when she was unable to get away. His body shivered against hers so she knew that, if she stopped talking, stopped fighting, she would be a lost cause.

"I have more than a right, Robin." Patrick informed her, stabbing his tongue in-between her lips, running it over the roof of her mouth, drawing a quiet moan from her. His fingers moved to unclasp her bra, but she shook her head desperately.

"I can't." Robin argued, tears stinging her eyes.

"Let me touch you." Patrick urged, using his free hand to stroke her face, his forehead resting against hers as he waited for her compliance.

"I don't trust you." Robin pushed on his shoulders, but his lips found hers again, and she stood on tiptoe to drape her arms around his neck.

"You don't trust yourself with me. That's not the same thing. I won't hurt you." Patrick promised, gnawing on her ear, his breath washing over her hot flesh.

"It always hurts to be with you, but it hurts to be away from you too. I can't win." Robin sobbed into Patrick's mouth when she initiated their next kiss.

"It's not about winning!" Patrick snapped harshly, yanking the plastic tarp of an outfit over Robin's head along with her blouse, carrying her over to her desk and knocking all of her work onto the ground, smirking at her appalled reaction. He tucked his hand under her head, slamming his mouth into hers. His tongue danced sensuously over hers and she ripped at his clothing.

"Damn it." She snarled when she couldn't quite get it over his head.

"Here." Patrick took over the task himself.

"No. Let me." Robin got to her feet, but Patrick was already halfway undressed. She shook her head and cocked her head to one side.

"I'll let you have your way with me later, Dr. Scorpio." Patrick promised, tracing the rim of her bra with his teasing fingers. He backed away from her for a second, taking in the sight of her half naked in front of him. She sat there like an offering, daring him to take the final step. Her hair hung in front of her dusty brown eyes and she didn't even attempt to cover herself. She crossed her legs, challenging him, and her lips turned upward forming a tiny, barely noticeable, smile. He put both hands on her waist and dragged her skirt down so that she was only in her underwear. Her stomach caught his attention, reminding him how long he had been away from her, how long it had been since he had touched her, kissed her, and he found himself knocking her backwards once more. Her spider-like legs, both thin and skilled, wound around his waist and he shivered.

"Miss me much Dr. Drake?" Robin teased, unbuttoning his blue jeans and slipping her hand inside. She increased her hold on him until he was falling into her, his breath ragged against her ear and his hands pushing her legs apart.

"No more than you missed me." Patrick pointed out, stroking her through her panties.

"Tell me you love me. Please." Robin hadn't meant to beg, to show this kind of vulnerability in front of him, but she needed to know that he wasn't going to have her and then leave her again.

"I love you." Patrick obliged her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Now will you listen to reason?" Patrick inquired, rolling onto his side so that he wasn't crushing Robin underneath him. Pregnant or not, she was still so little compared to him. How had he been able to stay away this long? She was halfway through her fifth month, her stomach small and rounded. He drummed his fingers over her stomach, winning a soft smile from Robin and causing tears to appear in her eyes. Even though he knew that these were tears of joy, he had to drop his gaze from hers. How many times had he made her cry?

They sat up and reached for their clothes. Robin adjusted her blouse so that it didn't look like she'd fallen out of bed, and buttoned up Patrick's shirt, having to laugh when she realized that she had indeed snapped off one of the buttons. She, fully dressed now, crawled around the desk to see if maybe she could find the button. Patrick watched her in amusement, lacing their fingers together and helping her to her feet.

"You mean after mind-blowing sex?" Robin countered, zipping up Patrick's pants when he made no move to do so himself. He nuzzled her neck with his nose, taking in the sweet honey scent that was strictly Robin Scorpio. Her head became too heavy for her neck to support as his kisses drifted lower. His arms latched around her body and hers slid around his neck. It was impossible to steer herself away from him. His kisses were too needed; he felt way too good.

"I've been told that I'm very convincing when I want to be." Patrick responded, retrieving their plastic outfits and helping her into hers when all he wanted to do was strip her down and make love to her until every part of her felt loved. This wasn't the place where he should have allowed himself to have her, not when the dead and the dying surrounded them. It was only a matter of time before the epidemic was airborne and he had put their baby at risk.

"Would you stop worrying?" Robin insisted, pressing a kiss to his lips. She led him out of her office by the hand. They easily slipped into the crowd without being noticed, but there were still a few people Patrick had to shoulder out of their way. When they arrived at the elevator, Patrick tapped the button until it lit up and turned to Robin.

"Do me a favor, will you?" Patrick bent down so that his mouth was next to her ear, certain that only Robin could hear him.

"I don't think I trust that coming from you." Robin mocked, leaning into him.

"Go home and rest." Patrick instructed.

"Boring." Robin answered, but she said it in a light, playful tone.

"I don't care. I can't leave. They're going to quarantine the hospital soon. That's why you have to go now. I want to know that you're safe." Patrick told her, concern heavy in his voice.

"I know." Robin assured him. "I wouldn't do anything to put our baby in harm's way." The second she said it, she wanted to take it back. Patrick stiffened, but only for a second. They hadn't discussed the baby, not really. She still had no idea where he wanted to fit in.

"I have no doubt that your intentions are good," Patrick replied, "However, I know how stubborn you are. I need you to understand that you can't do anything more here. If you want to help, I can bring you some case files, but only after I know you've been resting. And don't try to get Brenda to cover for you. I'll know."

"Am I really that bad?" Robin pouted.

"You're perfectly capable of doing anything, which is how I know that I can trust you to go home and rest. I'll come by and-" Patrick paused, remembering something. "I have no absolutely no idea where you live." He sounded dazed when he said this.

"I live in Courtney's Matthews old loft." Robin stated, smiling at his bafflement.

Patrick found a smile for her and kissed her deeply, not caring who saw or who else might be needing him right now. This was where he wanted to be, he decided. Right here. "If it's too late-"

"Just let yourself in." Robin interrupted, handing him her spare key.

"Wow. A spare key. I feel overwhelmed." Patrick taunted.

"You should feel honored." Robin corrected, pulling him down for another kiss and then stepping into the elevator.

"I love you." Patrick mouthed when he noticed Epiphany heading their way.

"I love you too." Robin mimicked before the doors shut.

While it nearly killed her, Robin refused to discuss that day's happenings with Brenda. It was incredibly hard since the newest nurse, Elizabeth Webber, had called and told Brenda about their exchange in front of the elevator. Robin just shook her head and hopped up to her room. Brenda rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, but decided to leave her friend in blissful happiness. It had been so long since she had seen her this way and she wasn't going to be the one to ruin it.

*****

Four days passed before Patrick showed up at Robin's door. He must have lost the key, because he insisted on banging his fist against the wood until he finally got Brenda's attention. She stumbled down the stairs, her left hand sliding down the banister to keep from losing her footing. She rubbed her eyes and adjusted the strap of her baby-blue nightgown, squinting at her feet when she noticed that she was wearing white bunny slippers. Yawning and glaring at the door, she yanked it open, not that surprised to see Patrick standing there. It must have been raining outside, because his hair was wet and plastered to his head. His clothes were soaked as well.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Brenda snapped at him. It was hard enough to keep Robin in bed as it was; she didn't need Patrick robbing her friend of the sleep she desperately needed. Maybe she was being overly protective, but so what? Other than spotting him at General Hospital one time when she was waiting for Robin, Brenda and Patrick were strangers. She still wasn't sure if she trusted him, had heard plenty of stories from Robin about how unreliable he had been.

"Patrick, what's the matter?" Robin suddenly appeared on the third step of the stairs, her pink cotton robe dangling from her shoulders so that her white tank and bubble gum pajama pants were exposed. Brenda stood in-between them, the look in Patrick's eyes sending chills down her spine. "Brenda, for God's sake, let him in." Robin ordered, rushing to Patrick's side and closing the door behind him. She took her robe off and threw it around him. In any other situation, she might have laughed at the sight of Patrick Drake in her pink robe. Tonight, however, she was worried he might freeze to death if she didn't get him dry.

"He's dead, Robin." Patrick sighed without preamble. Robin's cinnamon eyes clouded at his words and Patrick's bottom lip began to tremble.

"I'll start a fire." Brenda offered, leaving them to their grief.

"What are you talking about?" Robin urged him to continue, rubbing her hands up and down his arms.

"My father. He's dead." His voice was low and dangerous, but Robin recognized it as barely-controlled anguish. He dropped to his knees in front of Robin, touching his face to her stomach and hugging her tightly. She ran her fingers through his slippery hair and felt tears sting the corner of her eyes. He held her to him so tightly that she couldn't breathe, but she'd be damned if she pulled away from him when he was in so much pain.

"How?" Robin whispered, sliding her arms into the robe and looping them around his neck, involuntarily shivering when her fingertips made contact with his chilled skin.

Brenda, having heard their conversation from the living room, left them silently, softly apologizing for Patrick's loss and heading up the stairs. It was clear that her presence wasn't needed. They needed each other. When she was out of sight, Robin helped Patrick to the couch and wordlessly stripped him, taking his dripping clothes to the dryer, turning the dial, and then returning to his side. His chocolate eyes were black and glassy as he watched the fire lick the wood in the fireplace. It was only gas, but it looked real, and it provided the needed warmth.

"We need to get you to a hospital." Robin said, but Patrick shook his head. Of course that was the last place he wanted to be right now. She had to get him warm. She drew her top over her head and stepped out of her pajama bottoms, laying on the rug with carpet and holding him close. He was so much taller than she was so she had to slide up and down his body several times to make sure that no part of him remained frozen.

"It was so sudden. There was barely enough time to respond. We got the cure in this morning, so there was no reason for him to die. He was one of the first to catch the disease, but he didn't tell anyone. It wasn't until he collapsed that anyone paid him any attention. By the time I reached him, he was barely conscious." Patrick explained, silent tears hitting his cheeks. His body jerked. Robin snagged her forest-green throw from the couch and covered their bodies, kissing his tears away.

"Did you get to tell him goodbye?" Robin's heart was in her throat. Noah hadn't been nearly as important to her as he had been to Patrick, but she had loved him. The world around her felt colder without the strong presence of Noah Drake. He had had such an effect on her life; he had given her Patrick. She would never get to thank him now. She had thought she would have more time!

"I did. I showed him a picture of his grandson." Patrick clarified, not missing the surprise look in Robin's eyes. "I requested it from Kelly before he died. He said he hoped to God that he looks like you." He tried to laugh, but it came out too harshly.

"I'm so sorry." Robin murmured against his chest, his fingers ice-cold under hers. "I wish I had been there -"

"No!" Patrick interjected sharply. "The only thing that got me through today was knowing that you were safe. Don't ever say that you wish you had been there." His lips were quivering when he pressed them to her forehead and he shut his eyes. Robin buried her face into his shoulder and quietly sobbed. "Don't go anywhere." Patrick ordered and Robin nodded, her hair tickling his chest as she did so.

"Your temperature is returning to normal." Robin informed him a few minutes later. His fingers danced up and down her bare back, but his eyes remained closed.

"He was the first one infected and the last one helped. Everyone else has been discharged; the quarantine was lifted. I came here, because I doubted that falling into a bottle of Tequila was the way to honor my father's memory. He loved you so much." Patrick rambled.

"He loved you so much more. You have to know that." Robin persisted.

"I know that I lost him without ever telling him how I felt. I'm not making that mistake twice. Robin-" Patrick began to sit up.

"Don't say something you can't back up tomorrow." Robin warned him. "You're grieving. Focus on that. We'll talk about us tomorrow. Tonight, I want to hold you and love you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_November 7, 2007_

_"Ah, jeez! What the hell is your problem?" Noah Drake sputtered, whisky and saliva flying from his drenched, pouted lips. He jumped from his feet, stumbling and cursing under his breath. The effect of ice water in the dead of winter was taking its toll: his eyes were red and dilated, his cheeks were crimson, and his two-inch-below-the-ears shoe polish black hair hung lifelessly against the collar of his turquoise button-down. Under his button-down, he wore a white, wife beater T-shirt with a whiskey stain on the front. His jeans were torn and faded; his boots were black and muddy even though it hadn't rained in over a week. How long had he been here? Was he even the man she was looking for? The bartender could have been misinformed: this might not even be the incredible neurosurgeon she had been referenced to. What little she knew about him, she couldn't say for certain that this was him. She had been given no picture, no way of determining his identity._

_It'd be best to find out now; Jason didn't have a lot of time. He was dying every second he was in that hospital bed; she hadn't come all the way from Paris to admit failure. So her miracle drug therapy had been unsuccessful. She had taken the next step. If this guy wasn't who she was looking for, she would have to move onto the next angle. "You're Noah Drake, the neurosurgeon, right?" Robin challenged, swiping her cinnamon hair behind her ear in a frustrated gesture. The empty water pitcher dangled from her clenched fingers while her free hand rested high on her hip._

_"What? That guy is dead. He checked out a long time ago. Why don't you let him rest in peace?" Noah snapped angrily, wiping the moisture from his face._

"'As it went on, the little engine kept bravely puffing faster and faster, 'I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.'" Tears slipped down her cheeks as the world around her came into focus. Robin blinked once, twice, allowing Patrick's voice to render her into a spectacular calm. His right hand softly patted her abdomen, his fingers brushing over the silk of nightgown. If she wasn't mistaken, she had fallen asleep curled up next to Patrick in the living room wearing only her underwear. Refusing to shift her body, not wanting to break the sweet moment she was secretly a part of, she noticed that she was in her bed; the sodden carpet was no longer stabbing into her sensitive skin nor were there rough patches on her arms, legs, or the sides of her face. Her heart swelled when she realized that he was talking to the baby.

The big, bad Dr. Drake was reading to her stomach, envisioning himself doing so in a little over four months. Would he be the kind of dad who helped their son do his homework when he was having trouble? Would he teach him about race car driving, let him test his skills on a lone track when he was old enough to drive? What kind of parents would they be to this baby? Would they work so much that one day they would have to choose between their professions and their son? She was getting way ahead of herself; they hadn't talked about their future, together or apart, Family Ties or Cheers. There was no reason for her to be mapping out their lives together when there was no guarantee that it would ever happen.

"Were you talking to the baby?" Robin teased, a yawn escaping her as her eyes blinked open. She stared down at him, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth and softly tugging on the skin. At her raised eyebrow, Patrick leaned up and kissed her fully on the mouth, lazily swiping his tongue into her mouth when her lips parted. His fingers moved to the hem of her nightgown as he eased her onto her back.

"Of course not. Who does that?" Patrick answered arrogantly, losing his free hand in her soft hair and yanking her head backwards so that he could bend his body more comfortably over hers. She wiggled under him, giggling when he groaned into her mouth.

"I was almost certain I went to sleep naked." Robin murmured, tracing her index finger over Patrick's heart, smiling when she felt it beating furiously against her hand.

"You looked cold." Patrick clarified, frowning at Robin when she stilled his skilled hand.

"Did you sleep at all?" Robin wanted to know. She rolled onto her right side and closed her eyes when she felt his arms wrap securely around her waist.

"No. I didn't trust myself to." Patrick replied, lightly kissing her back. "Did you dream?"

"I did." Robin stared down at her hands, her voice nothing more than a mumble.

"Nightmare?" Patrick supposed.

"I had a flashback of when I first met Noah." Robin explained in a rush.

"You never told me that story." Patrick responded, barely brushing his lips against her neck.

"I poured a pitcher of water on his head." Robin told him, slowly flipping onto her back.

"Naughty much?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"He had it coming. You know how I hate to be ignored." Robin defended herself.

"That I do know." Patrick agreed, dropping his head to rest upon her shoulder.

"I have to go to work." Robin whined, crawling off of the bed.

"I have funeral arrangements to make anyway." Patrick stated, reaching for her right hand and snatching her toward him.

"I love you." Robin whispered as she pressed her lips to his.

"I love you too." Patrick echoed, letting her go. "Let's meet for dinner tonight."

"Alright. I'll wear that dress you like." Robin agreed.

"Which dress?" Patrick insisted, but she was already gone.

*****

November 11, 2007

Silky fawn brown hair flowed in front of foggy, gray-blue eyes. His eyebrows were slightly bushy, but even they couldn't hide the intensity in his gaze. Other than a seemingly sketched on mustache and the hint of a five o'clock shadow, he had barely any facial hair. His lips were pursed together as if he was in deep concentration. If he was her age, he didn't look it. Was it the strength in his features or the confidence in his step that made him so intimidating?

"You're not being paid to stand there and ogle." Epiphany pointed out, pushing a chart into Elizabeth's hands.

"Oh come on. Can you blame me?" Elizabeth asked in a dreamy voice.

"Get your hormones in check. I won't have a distracted worker on my staff. Understood?" Epiphany warned in a condemning voice that she had perfected over the years.

"I do look forward to these talks, Epiphany. I'm going on break." Elizabeth informed her boss. She left the Nurse's Station, dropping the chart onto the desk.

"All I'm saying is it seems a little too simple." Lucky Spencer rationalized as he sat down with his partner, Cruz Rodriguez. The all-powerful Jason Morgan was at it again and Ric Lansing had them running after him…as if they didn't have anything better to do! Port Charles was crawling with bad guys, so why was Ric so desperate to pin every crime on Jason or his mentor, Sonny Corinthos? The only real connection between Ric and Jason was Sonny; Sonny and Ric were half-brothers. Ric was the spawn of Sonny's deceased mother and stepfather. He was the one who had taken Carly, Lucky's cousin, hostage when she was pregnant and chained her to a wall until she went into labor. He had even convinced Carly that they had slept together, bringing her true fear to light. It had been a lie of course, a ploy he had used to manipulate them. Jason, Carly's best friend and Lucky's ex-partner-in-crime so to speak, had tried to kill Ric several times. It was amazing that no proof had ever been found; the cops were always a step behind. Perhaps this was why Ric hated them so much. Lucky didn't consider himself below Jason or Sonny; he was a damn good cop as rare as that was in the Port Charles Police Department.

"What do you mean, simple? We've been tailing this guy for weeks." Cruz pointed out in a snippy voice.

"And suddenly he just falls into our laps? Come on, Cruz." Lucky persisted.

"There's no chance that you're just being paranoid, afraid of something good happening?" Cruz challenged.

"You know me too well." Lucky chuckled to himself. "Who is that girl?"

"Oh, her?" Cruz spun his head around. "That's Elizabeth Webber. She's new in town, got here about a month ago."

"A month and I never noticed her?" Lucky's voice was incredulous.

"In order to notice a stranger, you'd have to leave the office." Cruz informed him.

"She's beautiful." Lucky commented, dragging his eyes up and down her body as she walked across the room unaware of his open staring.

"She's trouble. Ric had me look up her file when she got to town. She's burned down schools, started riots, stole cars…" Cruz clarified.

"Uh huh. Sure. She looks dangerous." Lucky mocked. She was a tiny girl, so much so that he probably could have wrapped both hands around her waist. Chocolate ribbons dangled in front of hazel, half-closed eyes. She had a brick wall stare, but a thin, innocent mouth. She had seen the big, bad, and the ugly, but she was trying to appear unaffected. He had seen plenty just like her, had known plenty of girls who got into trouble to pass the time until they were away from whatever hurt them. In his mind, he could see her as a scared little girl presented with something that no child should ever have to face alone.

"Earth to Spencer?" Cruz mocked, waving in his hand in front of Lucky's face. Lucky only glared at him. "Still want to question our suspect? She'll still be here afterwards I'm sure."

"You go on without me. I'll catch up. We'll play good cop/bad cop or something." Lucky mumbled.

"I look forward to it." Cruz headed toward the elevator, whispering something to Elizabeth before disappearing into the elevator. Elizabeth's eyes darted to Lucky's and he couldn't resist the urge to gulp when he caught onto the intent stare she was sending his way.

"Something I can help you with?" Lucky inquired when Elizabeth headed his way. She folded her arms and bounced from foot to foot, clearly waiting for him to get the hint.

"You tell me. Your friend suggested we find a nice, quiet supply closet." Elizabeth replied in a sultry tone. Lucky blinked at her. "Of course, I'm sure you had nothing to do with that right?"

"I'm sorry for my partner. I really didn't know." Lucky responded.

"Partner? You're not gay are you? My God, can't I just find one attractive guy-?" Elizabeth rambled.

"I'm not gay. When I said partner, I meant that we're both detectives." Lucky interjected, half smiling.

"Oh. Well, as far as the supply closet goes, I think Patrick and Robin pretty much have them covered." Elizabeth began.

"I didn't mention anything about that. Cruz has a strange sense of humor." Lucky countered. "You think I'm attractive?"

"Oh God." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You're ringing." She pointed out, nodding toward his pants pocket.

"Duty calls." Lucky extended his hand.

"Wow, this is just…aren't you so polite? You better be careful. I've been told I'm poison." Elizabeth answered.

"I'm not afraid. I do have to go." Lucky reminded her. Elizabeth motioned for him to do just that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_November 13, 2007_

"I'm sorry about Noah. I know you two were close." Anna Devane murmured.

"It's not just that. Patrick has been so distant since it happened. I mean, it's his dad, his last true family. If it weren't for this baby, he wouldn't have anything. I'm worried, Mom." Robin admitted, turning her face away.

"He'll have you regardless, my love." Anna countered, patting Robin's hands. eagle eyes saw too much.

Her caramel-brown, shoulder-length hair flew in front of her face and she had to push back her own urge to cry. Robin had often thought as a small girl that Anna's "I have these terrible nightmares. They're so vivid." Robin's voice went quiet.

"About Noah?" Anna supplied.

"No. It's not really about anyone. It's just a feeling in my gut. Something is very wrong." Robin insisted with conviction.

"I've always taught you to trust your instincts. Have you spoken to Patrick about these nightmares?" Anna wanted to know.

"No. I don't want to bother him. He's grieving." Robin replied.

"So are you." Anna pointed out.

"Did I tell you about the nursery?" Robin swiftly changed the subject, wiping her tears away.

"No. You know, I still cannot believe you waited until you were six months along to let your own mother know she was going to have a grandson. I can understand not telling your father." Anna playfully scolded.

"I didn't want to tell you, not until I knew where I stood with Patrick." Robin explained.

"You didn't tell your father before me, did you?" Anna inquired.

"He kind of showed up at the hospital during one of my appointments. Having Patrick there was a plus. Dad was still pretty surprised, but he was happy to see Patrick at my side." Robin answered.

"Now, the nursery?" Anna persisted.

"I walked in on Lucky and Patrick fighting over where to put the crib. It was the most adorable thing. So far, the room itself is decorated in little blue ducks." Robin couldn't help but smile.

"There. That. Do it more often, won't you?" Patrick suggested, bending down to give her a kiss. Anna watched the scene with open speculation and motherly intuition. They pulled apart, both smiling.

"I have a few things to discuss with you, Dr. Drake. We've only had one real talk and my daughter interrupted that. I say that with love." Anna assured Robin.

"Of course. What are you doing here?" Robin queried, tilting her head to stare up at him.

"I like the coffee." Patrick mused, yanking a leaf from her hair. "One of these days you're going to have to explain your obsession with plants."

"Robin was just telling me about your father. I am incredibly sorry for your loss." Anna murmured, holding Patrick's hand in-between both of hers. It was a strange moment, one that Robin wasn't quite sure what to do with. First, the baby room debacle, and now there was open consoling?

"I appreciate that. I'll leave you two to your talk." Patrick left them there, left Robin in a stupor.

"I see what you mean about the distance." Anna noted.

"I can't break through the brick wall that is Patrick Drake. What should I do? A part of me likes the mystery, while the other part screams, 'You're having a baby together. You need to figure out where you are so that there's stability for your child.'" Robin looked up.

"I can't tell you what to do. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the fine example of mothering that I should be. Your childhood is a testament to that." Anna reminded her.

"I'm who I am because of you, you and Dad. I've learned to take care of myself. I'm just a little out of my league here." Robin sighed.

"Then you should know what to do. If something is bothering you, just talk to Patrick. I'm sure the dreams will stop." Anna offered consolingly.

"Maybe you're right about the talking thing." Robin blew out a breath.

*****

NOVEMBER 14,2007

"You're getting in over your head, Robert." Anna hissed at her ex-husband as they hid in the coat closet of Lorenzo Alcazar's three-story home. It was around three o'clock in the afternoon and they had been awaiting the hotheaded mobster's return. Robert was the one to suggest the closet, had said that it provided both security and a fantastic vantage point of the house. Now they stood here, a mere two feet of space between them, hot and cramped.

"You could have brought sandwiches." Robert mocked, smiling at her frustrated glare. "No one forced you to come here." He pointed out, closing the closet door once more when he thought he might have heard a servant walking past them.

"Someone had to keep you out of trouble." Anna countered, folding her arms. It was almost pitch-black, but Robert didn't have to see her to read her facial expression. She had seen him sneak into the mansion and, like a snoop, she had followed. Startled, Robert had backed her into the closet and they had been there for almost half an hour. Anna was about ready to kick him in the shin and run for the door.

"Do you think you can act as a lookout while I pick up what I came here to get?" Robert asked, raising an eyebrow at Anna. She huffed and shuffled past him. He, in turn, stopped her in her tracks by touching her shoulders and blocking her exit. "I'd rather not get caught if we can help it." He explained when she struggled against him.

"I'm sure that's the only reason we've been in this closet so long." Anna grumbled, easing open the door and motioning for him to get on with it. They both stepped out of the closet and went in two different directions. Robert hurried to Lorenzo's study where he knew the contract was while Anna made herself comfortable on the ottoman. If the mobster did show up, at least she had a plan for how she might deal with him. She hadn't come out of her marriage without learning how to lie like a pro.

*****

"You just missed Pete." Patrick noticed, looking Robin up and down when she walked into his apartment. Pete had stopped by earlier that day, but had vacated as soon as he realized that Robin would be coming over. Despite Patrick's efforts, Robin and Pete couldn't or wouldn't get along with each other. He would have to keep trying. They were both incredibly important to him. He didn't want to lose either one. Of course, if asked, he would choose Robin but he had more riding on her staying with him, for one his son.

"Sad." Robin answered sarcastically, sticking her tongue out at him and walking over to where he was. He was stretched out with his hands behind his head on his brand new black leather couch that he had let her pick out for him a week previous. Robin picked up a baby book she found on the matching lamp side table she had suggested he pick up-the book had been his own decision. She stared down at the title: The Ugly Duckling. "You have such cute taste in books." Robin noted, flipping through the book she had memorized as a small child.

"Lucky and I just finished the nursery. Do you want to-?" Before he could even finish the question, Robin was halfway up the stairs. Smirking, he ran after her. "You have to close your eyes." He explained placing both of his hands over her eyes.

"Patrick." She moaned, anticipation heavy in her tone.

"Patience is a virtue." Patrick whispered into her ear.

"It isn't one of mine." Robin replied in a strangled voice. Patrick reached past her and turned the doorknob.

"If you don't like it…" Patrick's voice trailed off.

"I'm going to love it." Robin interjected confidently. Patrick's hands dropped from her eyes and he flipped on the lights. Her mouth dropped open as the room stretched out in front of her. It was only when tears came to her eyes that Patrick started to worry. Sensing this, Robin put her right hand in his left one and let him lead her into the room. It was difficult to not fall into the middle of the room and just sob. She wasn't an overly emotional person, at least she had never thought she was. Something had shifted. She couldn't blame the hormones. This was happiness.

She smiled at the ruffled drapes over the window next to a white crib. They were blue and covered in little yellow moons and white stars. The guys must have changed the wallpaper because it was now illustrated in white clouds and blue elephants. The wall was a dandelion yellow color and there was a blanket hanging from the adjacent wall covered in zoo animals. Under the blanket was a stark-white toy chest filled with an indeterminate amount of goodies. Sitting atop the toy chest was a blue momma kangaroo with a little baby in her pouch. The lining of the crib matched the blanket with its gray zoo animals and blue coloring. The mattress matched the yellow in the wall. The crib itself was the same white as the toy chest. The changing table was next to the crib on the opposite side of the room as the toy chest. It was white as well and doubled as a bookshelf. Robin fingered each book lovingly, titles like Animal Fair catching her eye. In the cabinet of the changing table was a stack of baby diapers and a Diaper Genie. It was perfect.

"We can change it." Patrick promised, breaking the ten-minute silence.

"NO!" She insisted, her voice rising. She buried her face in his chest when the urge to cry became too strong to fight. He chuckled, drawing circles over her back with his hands, and rocked her gently. "How long did this take you?" She mumbled into his chest.

"It was worth it." Patrick answered instead, kissing her forehead and directing her gaze toward the wooden rocking chair she had missed. It sat in the corner under the other window in the room looking ancient, but she knew better. Robin sunk into it, rocking back and forth as if she was practicing. "There's one more thing." She heard Patrick exclaim before he left the room. He was back a moment later with a mobile in his hands. They walked hand in hand over to the crib and assembled it. Robin turned the little knob and they listened to it play "Lullaby and Goodnight."


End file.
